Learning to Fly
by Somilge
Summary: Or how Dean white-knuckled it through a nine-hour plane ride from Wisconsin to Scotland.  Missing scene from Ep06.04 'Weekend at Bobby's'.  Oneshot.


**Learning to Fly**

Or how Dean white-knuckled it through a nine-hour plane ride from Wisconsin to Scotland. Missing scene from Ep06.04 'Weekend at Bobby's'. Oneshot.

I really loved 'Weekend at Bobby's', and like many I wondered how Dean could actually make it through such a long trip when he had such a severe case of aerophobia, and this was born. The title is taken from a Pink Floyd song of the same title.

I started this story with the normal, thoughtful, empathetic Sam in mind, and then remembered that he was Soulless!Sam at this point. So I retooled the whole story, and I had more fun writing it. So, I hope you guys have fun reading it.

Supernatural is not mine. Rated this story T for some naughty words and humor, just to be safe.

* * *

><p>Sam looked at his brother. In his 30-something years of existence Dean Winchester had stared down vampires, werewolves, demons, and just recently took the business end of a lamia claw without flinching. Now, however, strapped into his seat, his fingers testing the armrests, Sam could only muse that Dean was faring little better than a four-year-old getting a vaccination shot.<p>

Ever since they had received that dressing down from Bobby and agreed on taking a little trip to Scotland, Dean had been doing what he normally did went faced with fear – pretending it wasn't there. Of course it was ever present, and manifested itself in Dean complaining about everything – leaving the Impala, the inability to bring guns, TSA searches (which Dean immediately became victim of when he unthinkingly mouthed off to a customs officer) and the fact that their last bastion against demonic attacks was holy water in 3oz clear bottles in plastic baggies. Sam had let him rant, but a few times played with idle thoughts about stuffing his brother in the baggage scanners.

"Dean?" Sam began, even as the in-flight safety presentation started to play and the plane began to taxi up the runway.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Actually I just wanted to ask if we could switch seats," Sam said to him in a low voice. "I'm kind of cramped in the middle here."

Dean shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay, just thought I'd ask," Sam said, leaning back in his seat. Sam looked at the little old lady in the window seat to his left and flashed her a generic smile, which she returned with an indifferent blink and went back to staring at the back of the headrest in front of her. Sam stifled a sigh; it was going to be a long flight.

The plane's engine rumbled loudly as it picked up speed for takeoff. From his right came the unmistakable sound of strained humming – Metallica's 'Some Kind of Monster' – through tightly pressed lips. "Dude, relax," he said to Dean. "That's just the engine powering up… that's just the engine struggling… that's just a carp swimming around your ankles…"

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean snapped at him, almost sounding catty. "By the way, watching that rerun of the Simpsons last night? So not funny."

Come dinnertime Sam finished his chicken cacciatore (or the barely identifiable thing that passed for it) and turned to where Dean had half-heartedly moved around a few of the (supposed) greens over his less than appetizing-looking beef stroganoff. "So, uh, if you're not eating can I have that?"

"I wish you knew just how much I hate you right now," was Dean's irrational reply.

Undeterred, Sam speared a piece of beef with the plastic knife and popped it into his mouth. "Dean, if it helps any, we can purchase some alcohol and get you liquored up enough to actually make it through this without spontaneously combusting."

"No," Dean insisted stubbornly. "If some asshole tries something I want to be sober, lucid. I want to be—" that was about as far as he got before he grabbed one of the sickness bags and vomited the bacon cheeseburger he had unthinkingly scarfed before he boarded the plane. It was enough to throw the other passengers seated around them off their food.

Except for Sam. The younger Winchester reached over to perfunctorily rub Dean's back with soothing circular motions, all the while taking his brother's bread bun and chomping it down. No sense wasting food, even if it was plane food.

The in-flight movie was 'Eat, Pray, Love', some drivel starring Julia Roberts that made Sam want to vomit in his own sickness bag, had Dean not used it already. So instead of watching he turned the station to some music and idly played a game of minesweeper on his laptop. To his left the old lady had nodded off, and he could see a small bottle of sleeping pills peeking out of her handbag. Dean had attempted to sleep, given up, and them muttered something about having to use the bathroom and left on shaky legs to presumably do his business.

About half an hour had passed when Sam realized that Dean had yet to make it back. Briefly imagining possible scenarios of why his brother was taking an inordinately long time in the john (none of them pretty), Sam was about to get up and check on him when Dean finally shuffled back to his seat. Sam noted that even though he was still pale he actually looked a little pleased with himself. "What took you so long?"

"I, uh, had a little company."

"In the bathroom?"

Dean actually grinned at him and at that moment one of the flight attendants, a leggy blonde that had bent a little too low in serving them their food earlier to no doubt offer them a view of surgically enhanced bosoms, passed by and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Really, Dean? You can barely stand up as it is, and you still manage to…" Sam made a face and gestured vaguely south.

"Apparently not all of me has a problem standing up."

Sam groaned. "Unbelievable," he said, even as Dean gave a shrug as if to say, 'Hey, this IS me you're talking to.'

Economy seats were not built for large frames, as Sam had become painfully aware over the course of the trip. Still he managed to shift himself in a semi-comfortable position (which no doubt took a lot of leg room from both his brother and the old lady beside him) and doze off.

The peace was short-lived, however, when his sleep-addled brain registered the pilot on the speaker system saying something about turbulence and little ding signaling the 'seatbelt on' sign came. As he drowsily fumbled to secure his belt, the plane suddenly hit an air pocket that caused it to drop about ten feet in the space of a second. There were a few startled screams, a baby wailed, but Sam was completely unprepared for the well-muscled body that threw itself at him and barely contained a frightened squeak. Sam let out a startled "Oomph!" as Dean all but climbed into his lap, his reaction more a reflex than anything else and no doubt as unexpected to him as it was to Sam.

"Dean, for fuck's sake, get OFFA ME!" Sam yelled, struggling to push Dean back into his seat.

Dean collapsed back into his place just as the plane righted itself. He blinked, stunned, as he had just been on the verge of nodding off as well before the plane had dipped, and suddenly colored when he realized what he had done. It did not help when the little boy across the aisle pointed at him and laughed.

Sam yanked off his seatbelt just as the sign to keep it on was switched off. "That's it, we're getting you booze," he declared, pressing the flight attendant call button.

"No, Sam, I told you, I'm going to make it through this flight sober one way or another," Dean said stubbornly.

"Dean, you just tried to climb on top of me like a terrified bunny, and you have no earthly idea how disturbing that is for me."

"You can't judge a man for what he does when he thinks he's going to die, Sam!"

Sam snorted at that. "That kid across the aisle had more composure. Seriously, for your sake and mine, especially mine, we're getting you liquored up."

Dean grabbed him by the wrist. "Sammy, so help me, if you buy even one lousy plastic cup of overpriced beer, I will create a scene so embarrassing that that undercover TSA agent five rows back will have us both handcuffed to our seats for the rest of the flight."

Sam glared at him, knowing full well that Dean would actually do it. A flight attendant, different from the one who had 'accompanied' Dean in the lavatory earlier, came over and inquired, "Is everything all right, sirs?"

Sam finally stopped wishing evil thoughts on his brother long enough to give her a fake smile. "My brother would like some orange juice, please."

"Sure," she said, and moved to get it.

Dean looked satisfied at that and leaned back in his seat, although he had resumed his death grip on the armrests. Sam gratefully took the cup of juice when it arrived and held it to his brother. "Would you like me to get you a sippy straw as well?"

Dean's response was so profoundly profane that the kid's mother across the aisle gave him a scandalized look and covered her precious baby's ears. Dean tossed the OJ back like it was a shot and tried to settle back in his seat.

Ten minutes later he was out like a light. Sam watched as a semblance of a smile crossed his brother's face and he let out a contented snore. Sam grinned, and then turned to the old lady on his left, who had started to rouse herself. How she had slept through all that he didn't know.

"Here you go," he said, placing the bottle of sleeping pulls he had swiped from her bag in her palm. "Incidentally, how many of those in one dosage constitutes 'too much'?" When she gave him a blank look back he shrugged and said, "Never mind, thanks anyway."

And so the flight passed without further incident.

-'χαμόγελο'-

"I can't believe you drugged me."

"You can't prove it," Sam said flippantly as they headed for their rental car.

Dean was trying to formulate more threatening threats, or something to that effect, but he was still way too groggy to string together compound sentences, let alone get creative in telling his brother he was going to beat the shit out of him. The two of them finally stopped at a black mini car that looked like it could fit in the Impala's trunk.

Dean looked at Sam and smirked. "Okay, you didn't drug me? Then give me the keys and let me drive."

Sam glared at him and headed for the driver's side. Bobby was lucky the brothers owed him so much. This was so the last time he was going to fly anywhere with Dean again in tow.

End


End file.
